It's 3:17 as my alarm clock seems to read. This hate has nothing to do with you. I hate myself for everything that I did because everything I did somehow reflected itself back at me and all I saw was bits and pieces of you. Are you confused yet? I hope so because I'm too wired to not explain it. I could have prevented the harm, the pain, and every decision I made when it came to you. But I suppose living in sin keeps us warm. We feel safe until the call or the badge at our door. I followed your break lights into the night, I admit this now. You plead a few words I can't mutter, I plead "first". First everything. Maybe that's why it was so new and unexplained to me. My mother never spoke to me about what to do when my first came along. We were distant from one another most of the time. I couldn't expect to understand it coming from such a stranger and she couldn't imagine telling it to a child she one knew but then I had created an island of my own. She couldn't find me there. I grew and matured without her watchful eyes. Maybe that's why she never talked to me about love or self hate or anything important short of "pass the butter." I kicked the curb until my foot felt right. Did you cry? Probably not. I can't expect you to care that much about someone you knew for 2 summers. To enlighten it would frighten you so I never spoke another word to you until I moved an hour and a half out of your way. There are no holes in the roof anymore. I don't have to worry about the random storm letting itself in and onto my sleeping face. The rain can't make it's way in. So I guess we're both safe now. You can lay back down and sleep well again. I tried to talk to her about it in the beginning. Yeah, that should be a surprise. That was something we shared; we both despised my mother equally. You wouldn't have expected me to confide in her. I felt like I had to take a crowbar to her mouth, to make what's on the inside come out. Ivory chips fall to the floor and were swept under the rug and out the door. What a night. Back and forth with no end in sight. I can't watch this again replaying in my mind. She just didn't understand. Surprisingly enough, it took me a full 5 years to finally be ok with the fact that she would never be ok and I'm still working on getting you out of my mind. Sometimes I wish I could tell her to scream it to me because then I swear I'll understand. I'd rather her scream her lungs out than sit on the end of my bed with her head hanging over the edge of this four cornered ship. She curled up to me, knee to knee, with her eyes glazed over with pain. She hid behind those tears. "Let's confront your fears," I wanted to say. But, before I could open my mouth, she turned and was gone. Just left me there with her words burning into my brain, "It's just a phase." I hated that she got to blow it off but I was stuck with it. She had an escape button and all I had were my undeniable feelings. I think I stood up too fast because my head is light and I don't think I can think straight anymore. Ironic, I know. I'm not stupid. I saw the blatant irony sketched in there. I know my mother likes gravity; it's regular and won't change unless you take a trip to outerspace and she wasn't getting suited for take-off anytime soon. So, for now, I make sure I wash my face and I brush my teeth just hoping to spark her memory. Maybe if I do something regular, she'll remember that I'm still her daughter. Tie a string around her finger to remind herself to love me. And, when I'm a country far away from here, I'll be thinking of her. And years from now I'll be sharing a bed with a body that she might not agree with. But she'll have to be ok with that because I'll be too far away for her to reprimand me. She always promised me when I was little that we would go visit Amsterdam together. I guess she's destined to crush that dream as well. I'm watching her hands by the by to see if they're reaching for mine. She said she was just going to grab her hat. Out the door in seconds flat. And I'm waking up facing the wall again. I don't sleep anymore. I count breaths because I'm bored. I come to life by the sound of her keys in the downstairs door. One look at her face puts me back in my place. But then I wake up and realize it wasn't her keys at all, just my small dog's collar as she situates herself at the foot of my bed. I lay back and cry some more. She has crushed me. She really has. From 6th grade with my very first all the way up till now. There has to be some hidden talent in there for her. Maybe she can get her money from that record.
I have it in me to meet my maker and ask her why she likes to play such sick games with my heart and mind. But I'm finding reasons to keep on breathing and learn from past mistakes. There are times when I'm heading down hill with no lights or breaks and it's the same love that she despised that keeps on saving me. There I go again; failing her.
But, in the end, I'm no better than her.
She disowned her mother, I disowned her. What will my daughter do? All I can do now is hope that I can take her mistakes and turn my life as "mommy" around before it's too late.
